


Obsession

by Ghost (PoisonedDeath)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedDeath/pseuds/Ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cesc isn't obsessed with Iker. No, of course not. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

Cesc fiddled absent-mindedly with his fingers as he waited for a reply. He’d sent the text 2 minutes ago. Surely, surely Iker must’ve seen it by now. If he’d seen it, then why hadn’t he replied? Cesc read over the text message again.  
Hey. Just wondered if you want to go grab a coffee or something?

The message seemed innocent enough, right? Maybe not. Maybe. Cesc just didn’t know. He tapped his fingers gently against the screen. 5 minutes. Why wasn’t Iker replying? Had Iker been killed and his body crushed into a pulp and left somewhere? No, no, maybe he was just lost in Barcelona. Or maybe Iker had been kidnapped... Or perhaps even raped and left in an alley and oh, God, what if something really terrible had happened and Cesc didn’t know? The endless possibilities flew around Cesc’s head until he felt tears forming in his eyes. He was pulled from his negative thoughts by the buzzing of his phone. The unexpected vibration caused Cesc to stand up quickly, letting out a rather feminine squeal as he did so. The phone fell to the kitchen floor, but was soon retrieved from the hard tiles and thoroughly checked for damage by the Spaniard, who then checked his inbox. Iker. Had. Replied.

Iker had said yes. Yes. A When and where? was rapidly typed and sent, and a grinning Cesc ran into his living room and jumped onto his couch, rereading Iker’s message with a giggle. As soon his phone vibrated, Cesc was reading the new message and scrambling from his awkward position on the cream couch, clumsily standing up and running to his car, his brain repeating The small coffee shop near my hotel in around 10 minutes. After almost forgetting to lock his front door, Cesc clambered into his car and typed a reply of yes. With a smiley face. The smiley face was necessary. 

When Cesc pulled up, Iker was already there. The head of the Spanish summer quilted Iker and made him look even more saintly, if that were possible. Cesc grinned and Iker and climbed out his car, doubling checking the lock before he walked away, following Iker into the coffee shop like a lost puppy dog. Cesc, like a child, ran to the only available seats near the window. Iker just rolled his eyes, quietly laughing as he ordered their drinks and then sat opposite his friend.

“How are you enjoying Barcelona?” Cesc grinned.  
“I’m enjoying seeing everybody. It’s good to catch up with everyone without the stresses of knowing that there is a match to play, or training or whatever,”  
“Who else have you seen?” Cesc questioned.  
“Xavi, Andrés, Víctor and now you,”  
“That’s not many. There are mor-“  
“I’ve only been here two days, Cesc!” Iker grinned.  
“I see you remembered me telling you about this place, though,”  
“How could I forget? You were adamant that I came here with you!” Iker smiled. At that moment, Cesc turned the colour of a tomato.  
“I-I... er... Yeah?”  
“That’s interesting, What more can you tell me on this matter?” Iker joked. Cesc took him seriously, though, and stared guiltily at the table.  
“I-I can’t...”  
“Cesc... I didn’t mean it like that,” Iker said, awkwardly reaching across the table in an attempt to conform the midfielder, who looked up at Iker sadly.  
“Can we come back here later?” Cesc questioned.  
“Only if you want to,” Iker smiled. Cesc nodded, so Iker continued, “Go wait in the car, then, and we can go back to yours.”

Cesc walked away and climbed into his car as Iker paid for the coffee that they’d never received before joining Cesc. The drive back to the midfielder’s house was agonisingly long and painfully silent, neither man wanting to break the almost silence.  
As soon as they were inside of the house, Iker had pinned Cesc up against the nearest wall and was kissing him passionately. His arms snaked around Cesc’s body, who, in retrun, kissed back and wrapped his arms around Iker’s neck. When Iker finally pulled away, the never-ending kiss felt only a second long. Too short. Far too short.  
“I knew you wanted this, Cesc. I knew you wanted me,” Iker whispered into Cesc’s ear.  
“Fuck...” Cesc murmured under his breath.  
“I’ve known for a while, Cesc. And there’s something you should know,”  
“Yes?” Cesc whispered hopefully.  
“I want you too” And their lips met again.


End file.
